Luigi Does Gentern
by BluuGirl
Summary: Oneshot. When requested into Luigi Largo's penthouse for unspecified reasons, another simply aggravating night at GeneCo for gentern Carrie Hart becomes a horrific exercise in the arts of of poor judgement, lust, and lies.


_A/N: Just a quick note, I'm sure you're all aware of Pavi Largo's "Italian" accent which is so often written into fan fiction so I decided to bypass that part of his dialogue. I believe that you guys have enough imagination to read it as such. Aside from that, don't own Repo! so on and so forth... And most importantly, enjoy the story._

Vigorously I swept the scrubbing brush against the stockroom floor. Dried blood was spattered all over the cement. Sure, someone had the decency to pick up Kendall's corpse, the glass and the cart, but could they bother to clean up the spare formaldehyde and blood? Nooo, that's just too fucking much to ask for. So, dammit, everyone just walks right through it and gets footprints all over the fucking place! I wanted to go home, but I couldn't just leave the mess there; I'd get fired.

Luigi had decided to impale another one of my girls, Kendall this time, just before my hour break. Sure it had been a long first shift and I really needed a cigarette, but if someone had told me no one was going to bother when she first went, I would have traded hours and cleaned it myself. It's a pretty nasty surprise to come in to close shop and see that the confined puddle of blood from earlier is now everywhere. How ironic that Lexi and Tara, the last of the night shift, clocked out ten minutes before I came back for a final inventory. If those lazy sluts make me late for the opera tonight, I'll make sure they're on probation for a year; each one _that _much closer to termination. I can't fire them. I don't have enough fury to do that yet.

_Yet._

"_Oh Bella_..." cooed a familiar voice from behind me "Do you know how vulnerable you are right now?"

He wrapped his arms around my torso. I felt a shiver go down my spine as one of his nimble hands fondled my breasts through the gauze of my shirt, the other teasing me over the white silk of my panties. I shuttered at his brutally arousing skill, but managed to escape his hold. Playfully, I slapped at his hand. He chuckled, slowly released his grasp and let me go long enough to stand and look at his pitiful glory. Kneeling, Pavi stared up at me; face warped into a coy smile, his dark eyes glazed in transparent lust. The sexual harassment from customers pretty much comes with the job; but this is _the _Pavi Largo, convicted rapist and murderer. If he really wanted me again, he sure wouldn't be _teasing_. He was bored and horny. This was just part of his act to get a quick fuck.

"Perhaps Carrie prefers this more?" Pavi moved quick; his hands once again trying to spread my thighs. His strong fingers pulled my upper legs apart before I could say otherwise. He swiftly raised his head to meet my panties. He kissed the thin fabric and sent another shudder through my body. A quiet moan passed through my lips. His eyes became hungry, begging for that reaction. He tried to slip a hand into the fabric but I pulled away in a fit of giggles. Blushing like a school girl, I put a considerable distance between us and stood at the end cap of the closest shelf.

"Why are you here?" I said, peaking out from behind one of the shelves, a girlish smile spread on my face.

"The Pavi wanted to give his most ambitious gentern a _big_ thanks for her _hard _work" He answered, getting up on both feet.

It wasn't too bad of an idea and after all he _was _offering. But... I still need to buy tickets for the opera. On the other hand, the Largos own the opera. I could just deny him now and finish my job or try the most natural remedy to stress that Sanitarium offers. I lingered on the latter for a moment. I _did _get most of the blood off the floor. I could just leave a note for the morning shift. Then again, they might report me out of spite.

Before I could decide, Pavi's arms snaked around my waist. He forced himself on me, his hard on deliberately pressing against the hem of my dress. "What is your hurry, _bella_?" He groaned. Slowly, he made a thrusting motion against me; his lips brushing against my ear. Dramatically, he grunted and moaned his breath becoming shaky while pantomiming his intentions. "_Come_ with me, Carrie. Screw brother, let us fuck." he whispered huskily.

"Luigi? Where?" I asked, instantly forgetting the casual sex lingering on the horizon.

"In his room." He sighed impatiently, "But we're here..."

"Well, he asked for me." I said, instantly preferring the company of the eldest Largo over the youngest even if it possibly meant on skipping out on a little sex.

"You make The Pavi settle for seconds?" He questioned, deliberately pulling me close again.

"Never." I sighed, prying his arms away.

"A threeway?"

"Stop it! I have a lot of things to do. I'm gonna see Luigi before I-"

"The Pavi will get what he desires" He growled threateningly, grabbing my right wrist and jerking me backwards.

"I have my own plans." I said, eyes narrowed though he, obviously, had the advantage.

"Oh, _bella, _you tease me so!" He whined, giving away to the "wrongly denied lover" part of his act, flicking a fake tear away. "Go, go to dear brother! The Pavi had one-thousand women before you and one-thousand women after!"

"Thank you, Mr. Largo." I twittered sardonically, pulling my wrist away and scampering off towards the elevator.

The sleek metal doors closed after I stepped in; closing out the yellow glow of the storage room's cheap industrial lights. Swiping my employee access card, I pushed the second to last button for the Largo Suites. Waiting, I leaned back on the wall behind me, trying to depict the garbled static playing on the overhead speaker. The company really needs to fix that thing.

Suddenly, the elevator came to a smooth, premature halt. A periwinkle clad Amber walked in. That's odd, I thought, she doesn't usually use the employee elevator.

"We don't pay you to sit around, skank." She snapped, glaring at me with black irises implanted in genetically perfect eyes.

"Pardon me, Miss Sweet." I said, standing up.

"That's more like it." She growled, sliding her identification card and tucking it away in her purse again.

Amber looked like she was going out. An evening shrug hung around her bare shoulders. One gloved hand clutched a loaded pocketbook, a colche hat gripped in the other. I knew where she was going. Everyone knew where Amber Sweet is going when she leaves her daddy's workshop. I can't believe that surgery slut has the nerve to call me a skank when she's under the knife every other hour.

"Oh, what do we have here? Visiting my brothers, Carrie?" She asked, glancing at the panel.

"I was requested." I mumbled.

"Don't get smart with me, bitch. You think you're special because you're Luigi's favorite fuck?" She snapped, jabbing the ground floor button with a nimble finger. The elevator went into smooth motion again.

"No, ma'am."

"Stay that way, you cheap skank."

Two years of suppressed anger bubbled inside of me. I felt her eyes size me up as I stood respectively, keeping my head bowed and eyes averted. We said nothing until the door opened with a pleasant "ping". Stepping just outside of the elevator threshold, I thought about letting my morals win; live up to daddy's philosophy and be the bigger person. It was simple as that: just walking away and preserving my job's remaining security.

Then again, I am a cheap skank.

Turning around towards the closing elevator doors, I purposely jammed the three inch heel of my shoe into the track. Two distressed "pings" sounded over a loud burst of static and the doors opened again.

"Get your fucking heel off of my eleva-"

"Listen up, bitch. I'm only going to say this once." I interrupted "I have more class in my pinkie finger than you do in your entire body. Don't ever think I take shit from you because I'm afraid of losing my job. It just so happens your my boss's daughter." I spat.

Her were narrowing into slits; a sure sign of her extreme, but silent, anger.

"Pavi'll become celibate before your father considers signing the company off to you. So you can take your precious Z and shove it up your perfect little asshole, Amber Slut."

Meeting her shocked and disgusted face with a sneer, I wiggled my heel free and turned back towards the hall. I was the only one that could feel that icy glare as I walked, continuing to Luigi's room. Undoubtedly everyone could hear that insane screaming as the doors closed between Amber and I.

After that, I didn't waste any time getting to the end of the cold, gray hall. My three second adrenaline rush left as soon as it came. Moving past the two guest rooms on the left side, I reached the last door and knocked twice. I tried to distract myself from Amber's ongoing yells, but it was no use. Oh, if she didn't fire me, she'd get the Repo Men on my ass. "The List", as we so affectionately refer to it around the office, isn't as strictly monitored as we allow the public to think it is. If one of his kids changes up the order a little bit, Rotti just kinda looks the other way. That's how Amber's dealer has stayed free of threats for five years. I feel like he gets the same deal the genterns do: Surgery debts for aren't pardoned, only just frozen until dismissal.

My knees became weak and I started to toy with the hem of my dress; a sure sign of my frayed disposition.

Oh, god, why do I have to be such a dumbass?

Three locks clicked open one after another, sounding to me like a gun being locked and loaded. _Shank. Clank. Shing. _The heavy wooden door swung open and hit it's adjoining wall with an unceremonious "bang".

I screamed.

"Shut up and get you're ass in here, Carrie." Luigi commanded from somewhere out of view.

Obliging, I stepped in. The door automatically shut behind me and locked once again. I glanced around the extremely tidy penthouse looking from the heavy black velvet curtains around the single gigantic one-way window; the black marble bar in front of me and the brass canopy bed on the far left wall before the bathroom. Everything was so clean; almost like he was hiding something. The walls were too dark, the carpet was too white and those LED lights did everything but brighten the room. I always suspected a cellar door to be under the synthetic bearskin rug by his closet. In it are the dead, decaying bodies of past victims in some forgotten catacomb. Even the innocent modern splatter picture framed neatly on the walls looked like sprayed blood under the disguise of art.

In the bathroom a toilet flushed, breaking the perfect stillness of the room. Luigi shuffled out seconds later, stark naked and fresh from the shower. I felt my face go red as a nervous smirk crossed my lips. Stumbling over to the bar, he pulled out an iced glass from the nearby fridge and a bottle of the most potent wine available on the entire island; a cheap brand with enough alcohol in it to start one hell of a fire. Without looking up, Luigi motioned to one of the steel bar stools next to the counter.

"You still have that mask on?" he slurred, pouring the drink with an shaky hand.

"Yes, Mr. Largo."

"Well take it off. And for the love of god, cut the 'Mr. Largo' shit. It's happy hour, Carrie. Get the pole out of your ass."

I sat down and obliged; taking off my mask and kicking my heels off. I picked at the gauze of my dress and the communicator on my wrist, trying to block out the echoes of Amber's screams that ached my ears and sent my stomach into knots. It seemed nothing could distract me enough to mute my fear; not even the temptation of Luigi Largo as he stood so close and naked.

No, I can't, I told myself, I'm not going to justify Amber's point; you saw what happened the first time.

Besides, it would be pretty risky when Luigi's like this. I'm not her oldest brother's "favorite fuck". Of course there's been night or two when we've gotten wasted, screwed and done some other _really_ crazy shit, but why worry now? Because the first Largo brother offers something the second doesn't: unfaltering dominance. You can never predict Luigi. Sure, Pavi is like a never ending list of new positions and fetishes, but that's it.

"You're quiet." He commented, sliding me the glass and raising the remaining bottle "Cheers."

We drank at the same time, indulging in the bitter alcohol. When I put down my glass, Luigi was still chugging the remainder of the bottle. That's too fast. He wasn't drinking to get buzzed tonight. No, this is the kind of drinking you do when you know there will be one hell of a hangover in the morning, but you don't care anyway. He was drinking to be flat out drunk, no, more than that. Luigi wanted to be plastered. He finished the bottle. Sighing, he leaned forward on the counter, eyes downcast.

"Not fair." I said "You started without me?"

"I need it. Mag's last show is tonight and I...I, uh, need to look good for the company."

We both knew it had nothing to do with the company's image. GeneCo already runs the world. Luigi has to keep a straight face when Mag is repossessed. Maybe GenCo can resist the tabloid's anxiousness for a few hours and wait until after the opera; but Mag's death is inevitable. For some time, she was in a relationship with Luigi and he genuinely cared about her and maybe he still does. Either way, he'll have to watch her die.

Lingering on that thought, I awkwardly gulped down the rest of my wine. He just stared at the empty bottle in his hands; examining the label and running his fingers over the smooth texture. Feeling nearly sympathetic, I reached a hand out and touched his bare shoulder. His head jerked up, those cold eyes full of fiery menace and drunken anger. His lips pressed into a tight, disapproving, line.

Bad idea, I thought, feeling the first of many of tonight's regrets.

"Luigi, I know you need to... be ready for tonight." I hesitated "But, I don't want to see you hurt yourself. Why don't you get dressed? I'll stop home and maybe we can get something to eat. How about it?"

He stared at me, processing what I said. In one swift motion, he was standing erect and smashing the bottle's end on the counter, holding it by the neck and pointing the jagged edge at me.

I thought about Kendall. All she did was run into him on accident; all Kendall ever did was get his shirt dirty and he took her down in seconds. After five months of loyal service, Luigi just skewered her like a piece of meat and five minutes later, she was moved aside. Soon, I would be gasping my last breath and, inevitably, get unceremoniously dragged away from life just like Kendall. My blood is going to stain that perfectly clean carpet and he'll stuff me under the rug with the other forgotten bodies. And to think, earlier today we were having a great time laughing in the storage room right before he got pissed.

He walked out from behind the counter, his lips locked in that signature frown; eyes smoldering like hell's own flames. I tried to get off the bar stool, but I tripped over my shoes on the floor. Trying to grasp the counter for balance, my hands found my mask instead. Losing my balance, I gracelessly landed on the black marble floor below the bar. The mask bouncing out of my hands and near my heels. I crawled maybe two or three feet before Luigi's barefoot came down on my back, collapsing me to the floor; motionless. He kicked me over, belly up, and stepped down on my right arm. I winced as Luigi pinned the broken bottle in the center of my stomach.

I'm going to die, I thought, staring straight into his venomous eyes.

GeneCo is going to pour thousands of dollars into my family to keep them quiet about my "sudden disappearance". The most I'll get is a flimsy excuse for a missing persons report. They'll act like I'm still alive. A word will never pass about the Largos being involved. The cops won't gossip about how I died or who killed me, but I'll know and remember in my afterlife even when I am swept under the rug. I'll remember a drunk, naked Luigi Largo grinding a broken bottle of wine through my designer stomach. No more bar hopping or casual sex; hell, I'm going to be in so much pain I won't even notice his junk inches from my face.

I waited for him to twist and stab that bottle until I met a gruesome and purposeless end, but it never came. His frown relaxed and his eyes cooled ever so slightly; but he still looked very angry. His weakening glare never left mine as he threw the remaining bottle against the wall in front of him. A web of cracks formed from the neck to the edge and a piece or two fell off, but the bottle managed not to shatter as it fell beside the wall. Wordlessly, he grabbed the neckline of my uniform in one hand and picked my heels and mask off the floor with the other. He dragged me all the way to his bedside. Luigi threw my accessories down on the carpet and released my collar. Muscles tense and hateful gaze still fixed on me, he contemplated what to do next.

He picked me up by my wrists and threw me back onto his plush bed. Automatically, my arousal sparked like a programed instinct. Pavi had tried to get at me earlier. Past experience reminded me that Luigi was only happy when it was rough and, after all, you could never predict his next move. It wouldn't be that weird for him to go from nearly impaling me to sex. Extremely expectant, I waited for him to pounce on top of me. Instead he started to scream.

"You think you know more than me, you fucking peasant? Huh, Carrie? You think I don't know when to stop?" He screeched.

My anticipation drowned out his voice. Oh, I fucking loved the way Luigi looked when he got angry. The way his muscles flexed; how one little blue vein protruded in his neck; the strong command in his voice as he yelled at me. I could barely hear his screaming over my lust demanding one thing. I couldn't help it. I came ready for this. My eyes made that anticipated travel from his reddened face to his scared and sturdy chest all the way down to his...

"Are you even fucking listening to me, bitch?" Luigi roared, grabbing my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his eyes.

I saw the serious hate in his face. Maybe I was wrong. He wasn't feeling sexy tonight. I didn't dare answer him.

"Is that all you want from me? Is it?"

Vigorously, I shook my head back and forth.

"You think you're so smart." he seethed "Hire a slut to count some brains and all she'll want is dick! I can't pay you in dick!"

Luigi let go of my chin and stood back, sizing me up. He stumbled around the room a bit, obviously in labored thought about what he's going to do and how he feels. My gaze stayed trained on his brown eyes now, as if that was the key to my safety. He stopped pacing and stalked back to me. He stooped over, his face now inches from mine. The smell of alcohol was grotesque but not surprising. I was able to keep a straight face. Luigi's hands shot out, clenching the hem of my dress with his fist. I gasped loudly and felt my body tense. Maybe we were going to fuck after all.

Luigi smirked, his drunk eyes lighting up for a small moment.

"You fucking dirty slut." He growled "You think this fucking flimsy piece of shit qualifies you for anything?"

He yanked on the skirt. It didn't occur to me that the motion wasn't lusting or even remotely sexual; it was just angry. He jerked it past my thighs before I realized I was in any sort of danger.

The uniform was made to be removed with little to no thought. The unspoken code is to do whatever it takes to sell a surgery. To encourage that code, the company built a bra in it to eliminate excess struggle as well as a special layer of mesh sewn under the exterior fabric to prevent wrinkling or bunching. I didn't worry at first, figuring I'll just let him take it off and get his sick kicks; whatever. The dress moved over my midriff with little effort. It was fine until I started to slip my arms out. I forgot the one part of the uniform that will never come off unless provoked: the halterneck, still fastened tight around my neck by a single button. He yanked the stubborn material impatiently. The collar began to tighten and release against my neck almost rhythmically. I was in shock; dizzy and panicked.

"This fucking dress doesn't do anything!" I heard him shout.

I came back to my senses for a split second; registering for a minute that I was going to pass out or die if I didn't do something fast. With shaking hand, O groped until I felt the button. Snapping it loose, the synchronized choke hold immediately ended. Luigi had the dress now. Almost completely exposed and thoroughly terrified, I realized Luigi had more than that in his hands; he had my dignity. Attempting to cover my boobs and panties, I crossed my legs and arms and backed away from Luigi. He laughed maniacally as he shook the dress victoriously in his hands. I watched him look it over. Just _holding _it set off a tiny match in his brain that dropped into the pool of alcohol moving in his veins, relighting a whole new wave of anger and poor judgment.

In a second, he was trying to pull my uniform over his head.

He was much too tall and far too manly to be wearing such a thing. His midriff was pressed against the flimsy fabric, making him look pounds heavier in seconds. Where bust and butt were tastefully defined and accented were now flat, unsatisfied by the strong and lean build of the insanely drunk Largo. As for the neckline, it took him several tries to button and even when he did it, the clasp was stretched beyond any hope of repair. It was becoming obvious as he attempted to pull the hem to his thighs that this particular uniform was beyond redemption.

"Do I look professional?" Luigi cooed, jamming his feet into the nearby white heels. "Does this mean I can tell_ you_ what to do? Huh, Carrie?" He asked, tying the black ribbons of the mask securely around his skull.

Giggling mockingly, he wobbled over to his nightstand and opened the first drawer. It didn't take him long to find a switchblade in the small nook. He clicked it open and turned to me.

"Miss Hart, I don't want you to hurt that pretty little face of yours. I think it's in your better interest if you let me slice it myself!"

I gasped as his free hand shot out and grabbed my hair. He yanked me to my feet and dragged me to the middle of the room, ignoring my stuttering panic. My vision blurred and I started to feel a little light headed. I stared up into his cold, cold eyes wondering if my low tolerance for pain would knock me unconscious before Luigi did. He seemed to love watching me struggle in his grip. Laughing, he raised the switchblade. I gasped as the knife made it's ascent down. Squeezing my eyes tight, I waited for the cool metal to slash across my skin.

"Wait. No. This isn't right." Luigi observed.

I opened one eye just enough to see the blade inches from my face.

"I'm missing my GeneCo commissioned panties! Hand 'em over, sweetie."

He let go of my hair, dropping me on the floor with a muffled "thump".

"Well?" He shouted, reaching out an expectant hand.

My hands moved like lightning to get the tiny scrap of fabric off of me. Hastily, I struggled to wiggle out of it, but that only managed to make it twist and stick to the cold sweat glazing my legs. Nervously, my eyes flicked between the switchblade in his hand and my progress, hoping he would keep his patience long enough for me to comply. After what seemed like hours, my right foot slipped out of it's bond, quickly fallowed by the left. Luigi looked so amused as that last scrap of cloth unceremoniously landed in his open palm.

"I didn't know you had live birds in your shorts, Carrie. They practically flew into my hand!" Luigi doubled over in laughter at his own bad joke. He straightened, wiping a tear from his eye and carelessly dropped the switchblade on the floor now making a serious, concentrated effort to get the undies on. My chest heaved with panicked, labored breathing. Hectically I looked around for a way to escape while Luigi struggled to balance on one foot to slip the other in the panties. The door was too far away; the window didn't open; even if I tried to use the switchblade, he would definitely find a bigger knife in seconds and have no doubts about killing me then. I had hoped I'd get fucked tonight just not in this way.

"Aaaaand... there we go!" Luigi smiled, pleased with the silk panties that barely reached above his thighs and hid _nothing_. Cock, balls, ass, thighs; they were all out there. The panties had done absolutely nothing for his dignity. They only made him walk in this sort of spastic penguin waddle which, admittedly, would be hilarious if I wasn't so scared. "Surgery time!" He cackled, a lusty haze in his eyes. I shrunk back as Luigi raised a fist.

_Shank. Clank. Shing._

The penthouse door unlocked and opened. I screamed out of shock. Luigi froze in place and instantly sobered. Instinctively lowering his fist and covering his junk, he looked over his shoulder to see who had interrupted his game.

Pavi stood in the door frame, awkwardly averting his gaze.

"This is new." Pavi said, a smirk sliding on his face.

"You shut your fuckin fac-"

"We discuss another time, eh? I am here for you." Pavi interrupted. He looked past his brother to me, raising an eyebrow. "Your sister is downstairs. She says it is urgent."

Luigi vigorously kicked off the heels, missing my face by inches. He stalked off to his closet in that silly walk, keeping his face down. As he walked the panties inched down his legs from his knees to his calves to his shins. He was near the closet door when the fabric caught around his ankles and tripped him onto the synthetic rug. Luigi fell face forward, smackng his head on the smooth double doors. The red mask tied around his head cracked down the left side. Pavi doubled over with laughter. Luigi stood up, fists clenched and face bright red. He reached down and ripped the silk panties straight down the crotch and broke the mask in half with a single hand. Quickly he stood and opened the closet, grabbed his black bath robe and chucked it at me.

"Get out!" He screamed "Get the fuck out now!". Hastily I put on the robe and sprinted for the door; Pavi fallowed closely behind.

I didn't stop running until I was close to the elevator, clad in nothing but that robe. Sighing, I leaned back on the wall and closed my eyes. I was extremely fatigued from the rush of the past half hour.

"Did something happen to my parents?" I asked, expecting Pavi to be somewhere near.

No response.

"Pavi?" I called.

Someone grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head.

"Hey-Ow!" I yelped, opening my eyes.

Pavi was holding me back effortlessly, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. I tried to struggle, but it was no use. His grip was_ much_ stronger than my will.

"What are you doing? Where is my sister? What happened?"

His head swooped to my neck. With skilled lips he kissed the skin, making each nerve tingle. I tried to hold back a moan, biting my lip. Snaking past my collar bone, he suddenly bit my right nipple. I groaned involuntarily, trying to shake away this feeling of forced pleasure. He looked up at me, satisfied with my reaction. He didn't even have to say it; it was there in his eyes. Slowly, he snaked his way down through the valley of my breasts, past my navel and to the robe's knot; kissing, biting and licking all the way.

"Stop it!" I yelled, kicking out a leg "Where is my sister?"

I hit him a little bit below his left knee. Pavi stopped and glared up at me, impatience and aggravation prominent in his features.

"There is no crisis. I told you, Carrie. The Pavi _always _gets what he desires."


End file.
